


The Loves of Lucius Malfoy

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Hermione Granger, Healer/Patient, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Healer Trainee Hermione Granger may be the antidote Lucius Malfoy needs to start living, again.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 62
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this came from. I began brainstorming it in June of 2019 but haven’t made time for it until six months later.

**Prologue**

Lucius Malfoy did not have cause to experience a wide range of emotions. He’d lived under the stifling cloak of fear for so many years that its loss was uncomfortable; he didn’t remember how to behave, how to make decisions without its influence.

It was not his decision to be removed from his wife. Neither was it Lucius’ decision to pack a few personal items and leave Malfoy Manor for the spacious flat hidden above the apothecary in Knockturn Alley. His wife arranged for his removal and Lucius allowed it to happen. He made no attempt to see her. His near-constant, crippling pain contributed to his self-loathing and helpless weakness.

That was when Lucius rediscovered love.

Lucius Malfoy _loved_ being drunk.

The Cat’s Tale served wizards-only. The pub was small and dark but clean. A young, mute wizard, possibly a squib, Lucius mused, poured drinks behind the bar. Drinks that erased the uncertainty eating at Lucius in the wake of loss of fear.

Time blurred as he drank his way into blessed numbness. Lucius had no idea how many days passed.

**Chapter 1**

“I’m exhausted,” Hermione groaned, sinking into the worn spot of the sofa she occupied while home.

“Draco will be here soon but we’re heading straight for bed,” Pansy replied, entirely too gleeful at the prospect for Hermione’s taste.

“Lovely,” Hermione breathed, already half asleep.

“I don’t understand why you’re putting yourself through this.”

Hermione could practically hear Pansy shaking her head.

“Fourteen hour shifts at the hospital are part of my training, Pans. Three more months, I’ll sit the final healer exam, and then I’ll be a First Year Healer,” she sang softly, eyes already closed.

As if from far away, Hermione heard a knock on the door and Draco and Pansy speaking in hushed tones. At the sound of a kerfuffle and something about an owl, she quickly blinked her eyes open.

“What is it? Everyone alright?”

“Er, my father is looking for me,” Draco grumbled. “Apparently it’s something of an emergency. Do you mind if I use the Floo, Pans? Hermione?”

“Of course not,” Pansy replied.

Hermione shook her head and gestured at the fireplace while yawning. She hoped that translated as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Apparently, she’d fallen asleep for a bit. Upon noting that Draco wore only shorts and a dressing robe, Hermione wondered precisely for how long.

“Father?”

“Draco!” Lucius hailed, sounding positively jovial.

Lucius Malfoy stepped through the Floo connection and lurched into the flat. He stumbled towards the sofa and promptly fell onto it beside Hermione.

“Hello, my dear,” he drawled, turning a blurry gaze onto the witch beside him.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione answered, amused. She’d never seen him completely sauced; he seemed to be a friendly drunk.

“Have you any wine?” he asked, settling his hand on her knee, leaning close.

“Ugh,” Draco groaned. “I’m sorry. Can he just sleep there? I’ll whip up a quick Sleeping Draught.”

Draco was already in the kitchen, pulling out a cauldron and summoning ingredients.

“Why not a blood purification spell..?” Hermione called, reaching for her wand.

“No, let the poor man self-Obliviate on alcohol,” Pansy said softly, joining them in the living area.

The memory of Narcissa’s betrothal announcement surfaced in Hermione’s mind and she gently covered Lucius’ hand with her own. He must have been devastated.

“I know a pub with fantastic elf-made,” Lucius hissed into Hermione’s ear.

She smiled at him, “Another time, perhaps.”

Lucius seemed to believe Hermione’s sympathy to mean more than it did. He leaned closer to her.

“Did you know I’ve a pet snake?”

“No, I didn’t,” Hermione replied although she wasn’t surprised. The Malfoys took their Hogwarts House patron symbol seriously.

“Would you like to see it?”

“Er,” Hermione had no interest in show-and-tell with the drunk wizard.

“He seems to like you,” Lucius purred, taking Hermione’s hand and placing it on his groin.

Pansy burst into laughter and Hermione snatched her hand away, cheeks burning red.

Despite her embarrassment, Hermione was grinning as she escaped the sofa.

“What happened?” Draco demanded, popping out of the kitchen.

“_Nothing_,” Hermione spluttered with a pointed look at Pansy to ensure her silence. “Is that potion done, yet?”

Draco returned to the kitchen muttering something that sounded like “arse” and Hermione’s vision swam in exhaustion. Lucius had arranged himself to lounge across the sofa as if he owned it; he would probably be asleep before even drinking the potion.

“Good night,” Hermione yawned. Pansy and Draco could handle his father. Hermione needed her bed; her next shift started in a few hours. She lazily waved her fingers at Lucius and he winked in reply. For some reason, his drunken flirting stirred embers in Hermione’s gut that she’d rather forgotten. But, she was too tired to dwell overlong on the sensation.

“Night,” Pansy said.

Hermione was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

A distinctly male snore awoke Hermione. After a moment of contemplating the sound, she leaped from the bed. Squinting in the darkness, she identified him by the glowing spill of his pale hair. Why was Lucius Malfoy in her bed? …And why wasn’t he wearing robes?? Blearily, Hermione noticed that his clothing was strewn across her floor as if he’d stripped while walking in.

With a couple of officious swishes of her wand, she levitated Lucius, in only his shorts, out of her room and onto the sofa. After settling a blanket over him, she warded her door and promptly fell back to sleep.

In the morning, the wizard was much as Hermione had left him, limbs akimbo across the sofa. His blanket, however, had twisted about his legs and Hermione decided it better not to try and untangle him. She didn’t want to wake him. She set his robes, now neatly folded, on the floor beside him and left for work.

As a Healer Trainee, Hermione had little freedom in medical decisions but she was able to contribute suggestions from time-to-time on unusual cases. Mostly, she handled charm reversal and treated spell damage in the emergency ward. The work was non-stop.

At the end of her shift, when Hermione finally fell into her bed and heard the soft tinkling of a wand location spell, she thought she was dreaming. Confused, she thought ‘_I’m not searching for my wand… It’s still tucked into my sleeve sheath._’

The musical sound was emanating from under her bed.

Hermione rolled onto her stomach and leaned over the edge of the mattress. An unfamiliar black wand lay innocuously tinkling beside a forgotten sock. Ah, it was _his_. The wizard who’d stripped to his shorts and crawled in beside her in a drunken stupor.

Likely, Lucius would appreciate the return of his wand. Willing to delay sleep a bit longer, Hermione cast a couple of ablutionary spells on herself and donned clean robes. Knockturn Alley was just an Apparition trip away.


	2. Chapter 2

A house-elf answering the door of an above-shop flat was a bit of a surprise but Hermione kindly greeted the creature and asked if it would give the wand to his Master.

“Master Lucius is on the roof. He will appreciate receiving his wand. Miss must present it. Master is generous when something missing is found!”

Amused by the creature’s enthusiasm, Hermione followed it into the dim hall and up a set of narrow stairs. There was an unkempt air to what little Hermione espied of the flat. It was a stretch to picture meticulous Lucius Malfoy living in it. A door at the top of the stairwell opened into the warming day. The house-elf directed Hermione to the sizable greenhouse and ducked behind her as if uncertain about disturbing the wizard.

Steam fogged the windows of the structure. Tentatively, Hermione entered but there was little need for her caution; Lucius Malfoy was asleep on a cot.

“Master has been drinking,” the house-elf squeaked sadly and tiptoed around, gathering empty glassware and dishes.

“He must miss his wife,” Hermione whispered.

“Master has constant pain,” the house-elf countered, spearing Hermione with a glance.

“He’s in pain?” Hermione repeated, suddenly wide awake. Why hadn’t Draco or Pansy said anything? All this time, Hermione had assumed Lucius was drinking away the anguish of his marital separation!

“Has he been to a Healer?” Hermione asked, nosily investigating the potions bench. The wizard had been brewing pain potions but not effective ones. The ingredients he appeared to be using were rendered ineffective by alcohol.

“Master does not trust Healers,” the House-elf replied, levitating a bundle of plates and moving to stand beside Hermione. They looked down at the wizard together.

“I must wake him,” Hermione said. There was no other option. If he was in pain, she wanted to help in any way that she could. Not to mention, she didn’t want to just set down his wand somewhere and leave.

“Poppy will come back!” the elf squeaked and disappeared.

There was nothing for it. Hermione needed to wake the wizard.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she fretted.

He didn’t stir.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she said, louder.

Nothing.

“Mr. Malfoy!” she tried again, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

The wizard grumbled and swatted at her hand. Annoyed, Hermione stole his blanket. She hadn’t considered that he might practice the same sleeping habit he exhibited in her flat: sleeping sans robes.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, shielding his eyes with one arm and reaching blindly for the blanket with his other.

Hermione relinquished the blanket and Lucius yanked it down over himself like a child in a tantrum, huffing and grumbling.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I have been trying to wake you…” Hermione said softly.

Perhaps it was her unfamiliar voice but Lucius’ blinked open his eyes and sat up on the cot, blanket tightly grasped around his waist. He peered up at her, pale eyes clearing as he recognized her.

“Ah, Ms. Granger. Why are you here?” His tone was leaden with suspicion.

“I’ve come to return your wand – you left it under my bed the other night…”

Shock lit the wizard’s features but only for a moment before embarrassment colored his neck.

“I owe you an apology-”

“No, no,” Hermione interrupted kindly. “Nothing happened. You fell asleep on our sofa but found your way into my bed and… And your wand must have rolled out of a pocket.”

“I see,” he replied, plucking his wand from her outstretched hand.

Attuned to monitoring body language, Hermione immediately spotted that just lifting his arm to reach for wand caused him distress.

“Thank you,” he offered in a tight voice. “Would you mind?” he gestured for her to turn around.

“I understand you’re suffering from a high level of discomfort, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione confessed, turning away while Lucius, she surmised, robed himself.

“Do you?” he asked, obviously irritated.

“The potions you’re brewing aren’t effective when combined with alcohol.”

The wizard said nothing.

“I would be happy to examine you-”

“You’ll do no such thing, Ms. Granger,” Lucius retorted, brushing past her for the greenhouse door, indeed, appropriately robed.

“I’ll show you out.”

“I’m about to sit the First Year Healer exam. I know what I’m doing…” she said, hurrying after him into the flat.

“Of course you do,” he seethed, marching to the front door and swinging it open.

Hermione remained inside and arched a brow at him.

“Perhaps I should share with you precisely what you said and did to me at my flat the other night…”

“Healers keep records,” Lucius narrowed his eyes and hissed. “I don’t want the details of my health documented.”

“I don’t need to keep a record, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Why would you help me?” he growled.

“Because I want to,” she said simply.

All fight seemed to leave Lucius. He didn’t move but Hermione sensed that he couldn’t remain standing much longer.

“I will perform a simple examination and explain what I believe to be the issue. I won’t tell anyone – not even Draco, if you wish.”

The wizard’s pale gaze met her determined one and he closed his eyes for a moment. He shut the door and walked slowly for a darkened doorway. Lights brightened to a dim glow as he entered the room and Hermione followed Lucius into what she took to be his bedroom.

“My back. There are days I cannot breathe…” he confessed. “Drinking is the only way I get any sleep…”

“If you would remove your robes and under-robe or shirt…” Hermione, instructed, all business.

Watching Lucius’ tedious attempt to disrobe with a clenched jaw, Hermione took full command and drew her wand. A couple of efficient swishes stripped and settled the wizard on his bed.

“Mother of Merlin,” Lucius growled but made no other complaint as he rested his head.

Hermione directed her wand and increased the lighting to get a proper look at the wizard’s back. She fought the sudden instinct to inhale in sympathy – Lucius wouldn’t appreciate it.

Aged, white scars mottled his skin from cervical to lumbar vertebra. The scars, however, were not causing his current pain. There were two hex marks and the distinctive dimple that indicated the touch of a curse near his T7.

“How severe is your pain, Mr. Malfoy?” Hermione asked, summoning the nearest chair to the bedside so that she could carefully inspect his back.

“Without a potion, it’s… Unbearable,” he replied, breath hitching as Hermione carefully felt her way down his cervical vertebra.

“How often does it flare up?” she asked, skipping his thoracic vertebra.

“Daily… Hourly… Near constant…”

Hermione scowled. Someone had not only cast hexes on him, they’d cursed him. However, she wasn’t sold that only magic was responsible. 

“Is there anything that relieves the pain?” Hermione’s nimble fingers moved slowly down his lumbar vertebra, counting each pedicle.

“The mind-numbing bliss of alcohol,” he murmured. “And lying like this is quite a relief.”

“When did you first experience this pain, Mr. Malfoy?”

“It’s been… Twenty-five years.”

Hermione withdrew her hands and sat back in her chair. “How have you lived with the pain for so long?”

“It wasn’t always this extreme,” he clarified. “It’s grown worse only recently.”

“I see,” Hermione responded, mulling the state of the wizard’s back. “Do you want the good news or the bad news, first?”

“Bad,” he muttered, sighing in resignation.

“There is a distinct curse mark near your right shoulder. I don’t know what it is and cannot treat it until I do. There are two hex marks which I can treat right now… And the good news, your spine seems to be free of injury other than the spells.”

With her wand-tip lit, Hermione drew a couple of anti-hex runes in the air above Lucius. She watched with satisfaction as the two black hex spots began to fade.

Lucius gave an audible sigh of relief.

“How did you..? That’s wonderful…” he hummed, the muscles of his back, neck, and arms visibly relaxing.

Smiling, Hermione was reminded that this was one of many reasons she wanted to become a Healer: to ease pain, to help others.

“It’s returned to the dull ache it was for years before… If you never cure the curse, I can live like this…”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Hermione objected. “Once I properly classify the curse and its counterpart, you’ll be pain-free.”

Lucius gingerly sat up, testing his range of movement.

“Hex marks?” he pondered, rubbing his left hand up his right shoulder.

“Cast when your pain increased, I’ll imagine. And, based on their location, with some knowledge that you’ve been cursed,” Hermione added.

The wizard froze, as if he knew the exact moment it happened and, perhaps, the identity of his attacker.

“Mr. Malfoy, until I do find your cure,” Hermione began, hoping to distract him from his building anger. “There are several options for us to try to ease your lingering ache.”

The wizard pulled his shirt on and his pale gaze met Hermione’s. Struck with the memory of his pass the night before she couldn’t hide her smile.

“What do you suggest?” he drawled, buttoning his shirt deliberately slow.

_Was he flirting..?_ But, he was sober. Hermione’s heart skipped at the thought. Despite his scars, Lucius Malfoy was an attractive wizard. Typically, Hermione’s patients were simply individuals in need. For some reason, Lucius Malfoy crossed a boundary that allowed her to see him as… Him.

“Ms. Granger?”

“Yes?”

“You were saying..?”

Heat rolled up Hermione’s neck. What _had_ she been saying?

“Oh! Er, I don’t recommend anti-pain potions. They won’t be effective particularly if you combine them with alcohol. If your pain level increases, a numbing potion can be massaged into your skin. It’s quite easy to brew.”

“What happened the other night?”

Caught off of her guard by his question, Hermione blinked at him. It was unnerving to have his sober, full attention.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly.

“I apologize if I offended you.”

“You didn’t offend me.”

“You said that I found my way to your bed…”

“Oh, that. It was nothing. I woke up and you were beside me. You did nothing wrong.”

“You’re not going to tell me, then.”

Cheeks warm with embarrassment, Hermione huffed.

“You asked if I wanted to see your _pet snake_.”

“No,” Lucius hissed, looking ashen and disgusted. “My deepest apologies, Hermione.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione replied, hushed. “You were inebriated.”

“Is it my behavior that’s troubling you?”

Caught, pinned by his piercing gaze, Hermione didn’t know what to say.

_Against all reason,_ _I seem to be intensely attracted to you._

“I’ve just finished a shift at the hospital and I’m a bit tired,” she explained, hoping she was more convincing then she sounded to her own ears.

“Right,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “I can’t thank you enough for returning my wand and _improving my life_.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Malfoy. I’d better go. Owl me if you’re interested in that potion,” Hermione rambled and set her chair back from where it came.

“When can you return?”

Instinct told Hermione that Lucius was being flirtatious but she wasn’t certain that her perception wasn’t colored by her attraction to the wizard. Fighting flattery, Hermione’s scattered mind struggled to remember her schedule.

“I’ve got another night shift. I can come by after – same time tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, an actual update! I hope this isn't a fluke... XD

“Hey, Pans,” Hermione greeted with a sleepy grin. “Just getting started?”

Pansy shot Hermione a shrewd glare and continued making notes in a patient’s chart. Once she was done, she slipped it into the file holder on the wall and perched on the nurses’ desk.

“Healer Granger, did you pay any house calls recently?”

Pansy’s coy tone told Hermione she already knew the answer to her question. Hermione fell into the nurses’ station chair and crossed her arms.

“What’s up, Pans?”

“You’ve made quite an impression on your patient…” the other witch purred.

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione got up. She wasn’t going to subject herself to her best friend’s sly interrogation.

“I’m glad he’s feeling better,” she sighed. “I’m going to check on him after my shift.”

“Granger,” Pansy called after her. “Draco said his father’s made a fast recovery and is ever so grateful.”

Hermione nodded and spun; she had morning rounds to complete and she didn’t want to betray her muddled emotions on the matter. While she loved Pansy like a sister, she also knew that she had no secrets from Draco. The last thing Hermione needed was Draco to tell Lucius that Hermione had less-than-Healer-like thoughts about him.

When Hermione’s shift finally ended, she showered and changed in the Healers’ locker room. And, upon setting foot out the door hidden in the alleyway of St. Mungo’s, she was accosted by none other than Draco.

“Malfoy,” she greeted.

“Where are you headed, Granger?”

“To see your father, actually,” she replied, wondering what his reaction might be.

“Can I buy you a drink, first?”

“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“So, order hot cocoa,” he smirked.

“The Leaky Cauldron?” Hermione suggested.

“See you there,” Draco replied, Disapparating.

Hermione followed, wondering what in Merlin’s name Draco wanted to say to her.

“Don’t continue treating my father,” was Draco’s request as Hermione took her first sip of tea. 

With a lift of her brows, Hermione set down her cup. “He didn’t want a record of his treatment…”

“I’ll find him someone else,” Draco countered, not meeting her gaze, as he drank from his glass of ale.

More hurt by Draco’s words than she should have been, Hermione thoughtfully warmed her hands with her steaming cup.

“My mother left him broken,” Draco whispered. “He won’t survive being broken, again.”

“_Broken_? Draco, what do you imagine I’ll do to him?”

Draco leaned close to Hermione. “No one helps us, Granger. No one comes to our homes and examines us and relieves us of pain we’ve been carrying for years…”

“I’m different,” Hermione offered. “Your father was in _unbearable_ pain.”

“And, now, he thinks you should be walking on rose petals.”

Hermione couldn’t tell Draco that there was nothing for him to worry about; she was ambiguous about the matter, herself.

“Alright, Draco. I’ll see him today and then recommend someone else.”

Draco’s gratitude was evident in his pale gaze but he reminded Hermione strongly of his father, adding to her confused feelings.

Poppy, the House-Elf, appeared ecstatic to see Hermione again.

“Miss! Oh, Miss! Poppy will get you whatever you want. Come in! Come in!” Poppy bowed low as she led Hermione into the flat.

“Is Miss thirsty? Or hungry? I will make you the best meal!”

“No, thank you, Poppy. I’m too tired to eat. How are you?”

“Master feels better! Miss helped her Master and Poppy is happy!” the House-Elf squeaked with glee.

Embarrassed by the creature’s gratitude, Hermione could only smile back.

“Is your Master in?”

“Yes! This way! Master is _decorating_…”

Hermione followed Poppy to the doorway of a brightly lit room, wondering about the House-elf’s tone. It would seem Lucius had extended the boundaries of his flat – she didn’t recall the precise dimensions from her previous visit but she was fairly certain there had not been a magnificent study hidden at the end of the corridor.

Nor had there been a blond simpering witch casually flicking her wand about as she leaned on Lucius’ arm.

Inexplicably, Hermione’s heart dropped into her stomach. It took her a moment to remember to breathe and when she did, it was as if her voice and wand hand acted of their own accord.

“I’m not sure about ze color,” the blond witch pouted in a French accent.

“_Repercutio_!” Hermione whispered.

“Red,” the other witch purred, flicking her wand at a wing-back chair.

With fascination, Hermione watched as the blond blinked at the chair and then down at her robes; glittery black had become a startling red. The witch recovered quickly and then giggled as if she’d done something silly.

“Let me try somesing else,” she said, clutching harder at Lucius’ arm.

Hermione noted that Lucius’ clenched his teeth; was his back flaring up or was he annoyed? Beside her, she saw that Poppy had noticed, as well. The House-Elf marched purposefully towards her Master and his guest.

“Make it a bit more plump,” the blond ordered with an aggressive flick or her wand toward the chair.

Predictably, her spell rebounded and she gave a shriek as her close-cut robes ripped at the seams. The blond rounded on Lucius and trained her wand on him.

“Ez this supposed to be a joke?” she trilled.

Poppy snapped her fingers and the blond was gone, just like that.

“Thank you, Poppy,” Lucius sighed, falling into the closest chair.

“Yes, Master. Miss Granger is here to see you,” Poppy announced, fretting over her master’s obvious exhaustion.

Immediately, Lucius sat straighter and plastered an alert, pleased smile on his face.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. How are you feeling?” Hermione asked, stepping into the light.

“Hello, Ms. Granger. I’m a bit tired. Was that you..? Sabotaging poor Talia..?”

Hermione was unable to meet his pale gaze for a moment. Yes, she had sabotaged poor Talia. She couldn’t explain why and wasn’t about to try.

“I brought a topical potion for your back,” she offered, feeling more conflicted with each passing moment. She had just promised Draco she would stop treating his father and then chased a witch from Lucius’ flat - out of jealousy?

“How is the potion applied..?” Lucius asked, gaze narrow with speculation.

Grateful that the wizard wasn’t going to push for a response about Talia, Hermione released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“I’d be glad to show you,” Hermione softly replied. With her relief came a sudden rush of fatigue. Her long shift was catching up with her. Ordinarily, she’d be climbing into her bed by now.

“Would you be kind enough to assist me to my room?”

Strangely, Poppy was nowhere to be seen. Hermione moved to Lucius’ side and took his arm while he climbed to his feet. Despite his best efforts to mask it, Hermione could read his pain; the clench of his jaw was the most evident but his face had gone quite pale, as well.

“I would brew you a potion but if I do, you cannot mix it with drink,” she complained, balancing the wizard’s weight as he moved slowly down the corridor to his room.

Lucius stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall.

“You shouldn’t be in so much pain,” Hermione fretted with concern.

“It isn’t just pain. It’s withdrawal…”

“The alcohol,” she muttered, gentling her grip on the wizard’s arm. “I can definitely brew something to help you with that.”

Hermione could have hexed herself. How could she have forgotten about the alcohol?

The moment the wizard was seated on his bed, Hermione began checking him for other symptoms of alcohol withdrawal.

“I don’t feel a fever… Have you experienced insomnia or hallucinations?”

“Hallucinations?” Lucius repeated with a huff as Hermione directed his robes off.

“It could happen. Mr. Malfoy, during recovery, you should have low lighting, limited contact with people, and healthy meals and lots of fluids. On your stomach, please,” she directed, all business.

“I haven’t slept,” Lucius hissed as Hermione sat beside him on his bed.

“I’ll brew you a draught that’s safe for you to take,” she replied, pulling on gloves to prevent the numbing potion from effecting her hands.

“Hold still, please,” she murmured, gently dabbing her fingertips with the iridescent concoction. A pleasant mint smell rose as she settled her index fingertip just under the curse mark. She swept her finger in a slow circle, enclosing the spot with the potion.

The wizard took a shuddering inhalation of breath and then groaned as he exhaled.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, leaning over him to peer at his face.

Lucius rolled onto his side and wet his lips, breathing as if he’d just run up a flight of stairs.

“I’d forgotten how it felt… To be without pain.”

His eyes were open but unfocused, as if drugged.

“This must be used sparingly, Mr. Malfoy, and applied no more than every other day. Where is Poppy? I’d like to instruct her.”

Lucius’ hand on her back sent a shock of electricity up Hermione’s spine. She knew she should move away, withdraw from his reach but she didn’t want to. What was it about him that melted her resolve?

“I prefer you to my House-elf,” Lucius muttered, his fingertips fondling her spine

In spite of herself, Hermione remained seated beside him. All of her will to do what she should seemed to be sucked away by the maddening hand on her lower back.

“Mr. Malfoy-”

“Lucius,” he corrected.

“_Mr. Malfoy_, I believe you’re confusing your relief with… Something else.”

“You’ve restored my very life, my dear. I don’t believe I’m the one that’s confused…”

Finally, Hermione met his pale gaze. The slight curl to his lips and the expectant lift of his brows as his hand left her and he shifted onto his back left little doubt to his interest. For a moment, Hermione let go of her plans; she allowed her imagination to blink her out of her robes and crawl up the wizard like a cat. Her breath caught in her throat at her body’s response. Warmth spread from her stomach to lower places.

Logic, however, won out.

“I don’t know what you mean to happen here, Mr. Malfoy,” she began softly. “But I’m your healer… I’m enrolled in a rigorous training program and I haven’t got the time to indulge in…. In…”

“Ms. Granger,” He purred, leaning up on his elbows. “I have no expectations of you. I’m merely extending an offer…”

“A one-time offer,” Hermione confirmed, tempted despite consequences. There was no reason for anyone to know.

Lucius gave a hint of a shrug. “An arrangement of convenience…”

“Arrangement…” Hermione repeated, mind preoccupied with the idea.

“Assuming we _enjoy_ one another...” Lucius added with a lifted brow.

Hermione kept herself from huffing. Oh, they would enjoy one another. Of that, she had little doubt.

“Test run,” she breathed before she could stop herself.


	4. Chapter 4

“The truly intelligent test their theories,” Lucius purred.

Gloved hands raised to avoid numbing everything she touched, Hermione gazed down at the wizard. She was going to do this. She craved the touch of a man without the stress of an obligation… And she wanted Lucius Malfoy.

Skeptical, Hermione asked if he felt well enough. She’d had to support him into bed only moments ago.

In response, Lucius exhibited his skill with wandless magic and vanished the rest of his clothing.

With a smirk worthy of Salazar Slytherin, Hermione tucked her left hand under her right glove and turned it inside-out as she pulled it from her fingers. She made similar work of her left glove and tossed them onto the floor as Lucius pulled her down beside him.

~*~

Hermione woke with a start.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily, feeling for her wand. “Where am I?”

A deep grumble sent Hermione scrambling straight out of the bed and she tripped over a puddle of robes on the ground.

“Ow,” she muttered, remembering that she’d shagged Lucius Malfoy and fallen asleep with him.

“Is Miss alright?” asked a squeaky whisper from the cracked door.

Hermione quickly covered herself with her discarded robes and nodded.

“Yes, just forgot where I was for a moment,” she whispered back, uninterested in waking Lucius. “What time is it?”

“Half past seven,” Poppy replied.

“I’ve got to run home before the hospital,” Hermione muttered. “Will you excuse me, Poppy? I need to get dressed.”

“Yes, Miss,” Poppy squeaked and closed the door.

Hermione donned her robes and summoned her belongings in record time, then hurried out of the flat to Disapparate for home.

It was a relief that Pansy wasn’t home; Hermione could exhale and berate herself to her heart’s content.

_What was she thinking!? How could she have casually hooked-up with a patient!?_

She had an hour before her shift started. Distraught over her actions, Hermione showered and muttered to herself, trying to come to terms with what she’d done and how she was going to proceed.

On one hand, she and Lucius fit well together; she’d had a magnificent time, indulging in a purely physical experience. On the other hand, she wondered if she’d taken advantage of someone who felt obliged to her. Getting involved with a patient was absolutely against the Healer’s Oath.

_Lucius wasn’t officially a patient… No record… And, Hermione wasn’t officially a Healer… Yet…_

Shaking her head, Hermione gathered herself and headed for the hospital.

Fifteen instances of repaired spell damage, TWO embedded spiders, and a cauldron explosion burn treatment for seven unlucky experimental potions masters later, Hermione noted that her shift would soon end. Lethargy overtook her; she needed a night of solid rest. She hadn’t been able to study at all during her shift and the Healer exam was fast approaching.

As soon as her shift was over, Hermione slipped up to the Visitor’s Tea Room for a quick bite. It was there the House-elf found her.

“Poppy has found you, Miss!”

“Poppy has,” Hermione agreed. “Is your master alright?”

The house-elf worried her hands, “No, Miss. He has sharp pain that comes and goes all night.”

“Ah,” Hermione nodded, yawning as she got up. “I need to stop by my locker and then I’ll Apparate over.”

“Thank you, Miss. Thank you so much!” Poppy hurried towards an exit to Disapparate.

Within moments, Hermione followed.

After guiding Lucius through breathing and stretching techniques to handle painful muscle spasms, she realized that she’d grown too comfortable with him as a patient. She was seated beside him on his bed and he was disrobed from the waist, down. With the elimination of his pain, Lucius’ gaze spoke of physical interest.

“I really ought to find someone else to treat you,” she said.

“I’ve come to trust you, Hermione. My trust isn’t easily earned. Besides, I can’t imagine allowing a stranger to examine and tend my ills.”

As Hermione couldn’t think of anyone off the top of her head to recommend, she allowed Lucius to have the final say and, as he pulled her down by a handful of her robes, she succumbed to a kiss. In the functioning portion of her mind, Hermione tried not to think about how their antics might do rather less good for his back.

Some internal alarm woke Hermione. She slid out of Lucius’ bed and into her robes, mentally berating herself. She needed to study! She should be home, reading-up for the exam!

However, at the end of her hospital shifts, Poppy appeared to announce that his Master was in some level of pain. And, Hermione went. She’d apply potion or lead the wizard through new stretches and, inevitably, shag him. Then, she’d slip away for home.

“Well, well. The walk of shame is a sight to see at… Two o’clock in the afternoon…”

“Pansy,” Hermione greeted, shutting their flat door behind her. “I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“You’d probably sleep more if you stopped shagging your patients…” Pansy called after her.

Hermione flipped her friend the bird as she disappeared down the corridor and into her room.

When a knock sounded on her door, Hermione knew something was up. Pansy didn’t bother her with trivialities.

“Look, I’ve got news,” she said through the door.

Hermione, already in her pajamas and surrounded by scrolls and thick textbooks, spelled the door open.

“I’m moving out,” Pansy said, eyes pinched with worry.

“Oh!” Hermione replied.

“Draco’s asked me to move in with him…”

“Congratulations,” Hermione said, gob smacked.

“There’s more…” Pansy drawled. “His father bought us a house. Bought it. A whole house.”

Hermione’s brows lifted, “Well, that’s lovely.” Lucius hadn’t said anything to her about it but then, why would he? They only talked about his bloody back and fucked. A twinge of something sour hit the back of Hermione’s throat. Why on earth should that upset her?

“Yes, Draco thinks he must be preparing to die or something… As he wants to see us settled…”

Hermione huffed. Leave it to Pansy to make a dig at Lucius’ age. “He’s quite hale.”

“_I’ll bet he is…_” Pansy purred.

Without thinking, Hermione picked up her pillow and chucked it at the other witch.

Pansy, laughing, caught it. “Draco said his father is buying a place, too. Said it was your idea…”

Hermione frowned. She seemed to recall the conversation differently but she wasn’t going to hash it out with Pansy. The witch lived to tease her.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said, instead.

“Oh, shut up. Just come visit often. Or I’ll turn up at Lucius’ house. Where you live, too. Shit. Are you going to be my step-mother?”

Hermione laughed but felt the blood drain from her face. The idea terrified her. She really did need to end things with the wizard.

“Good night, you cow.”

“Good night, you dreadful swot,” Pansy replied with a grin and shut the door.


	5. Chapter 5

A curious thing happened after Pansy moved out. Poppy stopped appearing at St. Mungo’s with pleas for Hermione to treat her master. One day went by, then two. Then, a week. Hermione shoved her muddled emotions aside and threw herself into her work and preparing for the impending exam. She told herself she was glad that she didn’t have to continue berating herself for poor judgement. Lucius Malfoy was no longer her concern.

When a new Healer Trainee invited Hermione to lunch with him after their night shift, Hermione accepted out of sheer loneliness.

Edmund Barrow was a quiet sort but superbly practiced in manners; he assisted Hermione with her cloak and held her chair when she sat. And, when Hermione stopped speaking mid-sentence, eyes fixed with shock on a couple across the restaurant, he cleared his throat with no reproach.

“I’m so sorry. What was I saying?” Hermione breathed, forcing herself not to stare at Lucius Malfoy and his red-headed companion.

With a kind smile, Edmund reminded her that she’d been commenting on the menu. Returning a tight grin, the only kind she could muster, Hermione turned sightless eyes on the parchment in her hand.

“Ms. Granger, what a pleasant surprise,” purred a familiar voice.

Heart in her throat, Hermione looked up and found Lucius standing over her. For a moment, she lost herself in his pale gaze. How did the devil mesmerize her? Perhaps he was a hypnotist…

“Mr. Malfoy, I trust you’re well,” she breathed.

Genuine fondness lit his expression but she thought he might be pained, as well. Desperately, she wanted to inquire after his health but a public setting was no place to do so. 

“Malfoy,” repeated Edmund. “Not _Lucius_ _Malfoy_?”

“The same,” Lucius replied icily.

Hermione watched as Edmund colored and then went white under Lucius’ chilly gaze.

“Excuse me a moment, Edmund,” Hermione muttered. She took Lucius’ arm and led him towards the cloak room.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Saying hello,” Lucius replied with murderous calm. “Incidentally, I wanted to invite you to see my new home,” he added.

“Thank you,” Hermione replied automatically. Flustered by the wizard’s composure, she allowed him to step her backwards, into the cloak room. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her close and his lips captured hers with determined strength. Mindless with want, Hermione found herself stifling a moan when one of Lucius’ hands covered the curve of her buttock.

Stop,” Hermione gasped, turning her head to break their kiss.

“No,” he answered with an arched brow and Disapparated them away.

Lucius settled Hermione with care as they Apparated before a country cottage surrounded by a neat garden.

“What do you think?” he asked, leading Hermione up the path to the door.

“It’s lovely, Lucius, but our friends…”

“Who?” he asked, drawing Hermione into his arms again as they crossed the threshold and the door closed behind them.

Consumed by desire and relieved to be with him once more, Hermione forgot about the witch and wizard they’d abandoned at the restaurant.

~*~

“You acted like a jealous boyfriend,” Hermione murmured, head resting against Lucius’ chest.

“Did I? I suppose I feel a bit proprietary…” Lucius said, fingertips lazily tracing Hermione’s arm.

“I’m not your property.”

“Of course you’re not… But I’m not accustomed to sharing a witch.”

“Have no fear, there. I’m too preoccupied preparing for the Healer exam to give wizards the attention they want…”

“I’m quite content with our arrangement.”

“You should consider finding yourself someone, though,” Hermione said softly, wounded by her own words.

Lucius’ fingers halted. “What?”

“A _permanent_ companion. A fiancé… A wife…”

“I’m not in a position to offer a decent life to a witch.”

“But you were with someone at lunch…” Hermione replied.

“That was Draco’s doing.”

“Ah.”

“Incidentally, I discovered the source of the curse,” Lucius said, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s brow as he sat up to show her his back.

Joyous to discover his shoulder unmarred, Hermione swept her hands over his skin and pressed butterfly-light kisses across the spot.

**Next Day**

It was singularly strange to be sought by Draco rather than Poppy when Hermione’s shift came to an end.

“Hot cocoa?” he smirked.

Hermione Disapparated after him for the Leaky Cauldron.

“Prepare yourself for an awkward discussion, Granger.”

Suspecting she’d hear more of the same of their previous conversation, Hermione nodded. 

“I asked you stay away from my father-”

“Draco-”

Draco held up a hand. “I was wrong.”

Color filled Hermione’s cheeks and she pursed her lips.

“Haven’t you treated wizards before?”

“Of course I have,” she rebutted.

“Did you find any of them attractive?”

“Er, well… I don’t really look at them that way,” she said slowly, drinking deep of her ale.

“But, my father…”

“It’s different.”

“Why?”

“I suppose because I have a history with him – with you – your family.”

“You haven’t treated anyone else you’ve got _history_ with?”

“Er…” She had, actually.

“Look, my father is too damned proud, the goat, to chase you. But he is convinced you’re as interested as he is and I’m in this ridiculous situation playing owl between you...”

In silence, Hermione considered her behavior and emotions surrounding Lucius. They were unapologetic lovers, now; Hermione no longer made excuses. But she wouldn’t sacrifice her efforts at the hospital for a relationship that might not evolve into anything more meaningful.

“He likes you but he won’t wait forever.”

Draco left after his warning.

While Hermione was glad that Draco now seemed to accept her situation with his father, she wasn’t ready to make a decision one way or another. Not until she’d taken her exam…

After another ale, Hermione left for Lucius’ cottage. It was rare she slept in her own flat, empty and quiet as it was.

Poppy bowed low and offered Hermione tea when she arrived.

“Hermione..?”

Hermione followed his voice into the bright library. Lucius sat at a grand desk, its dark wood a stark contract to the light room. The wizard removed his half-moon reading glasses and stood.

“I have a confession, my dear,” he stated in a low tone.

“Lucius,” Hermione sighed. “What have you done?”

“Rent was due at your flat… I had your belongings moved here.”

“Lucius!” Hermione trilled, aghast.

“You can no longer afford the rent; you’d have lost everything if I hadn’t intervened…” he casually gestured with his glasses.

“I wish you’d consulted me, first,” Hermione groaned, sitting in the chair she usually claimed.

“You may remain here until you find a new situation… I’ve had Poppy place your items about the house for you.”

Hermione peered at Lucius as he settled back down behind his desk. Draco couldn’t be more wrong. His father wasn’t chasing her, he was simply manipulating her into being a permanent fixture of his cottage. She noticed the presence of several of her own books, sorted neatly amongst the bookshelves. The sight pleased her more than she could put to voice.

“My clothing – is it in the spare bedroom?” she asked.

“It’s in with mine, of course,” Lucius huffed.

Grinning so that Lucius couldn’t see, Hermione accepted a steaming cup of tea from Poppy.

“I’ll look for a new place after I sit the exam next week,” she replied lightly, pulling her study materials towards her.

She knew, and suspected that Lucius knew as well, that she would do no such thing.


End file.
